長安古道馬遲遲,
高柳亂蟬嘶。
夕陽鳥外,
秋風原上,
目斷四天垂。
歸云一去無蹤跡,
何處是前期?
狎興生疏,
酒徒蕭索,
不似少年時。
Slow goes my steed leaving the ancient capital;
Cicadas’ trills amid the willows rise and fall.
The sun sinks down beyond the birds in flight;
The dreary plain hears the autumn wind blow.
I stretch my sight:
The sky hangs low.
The clouds, once gone, leave no more traces.
Where are my old familiar faces?
Unlike those days when I was gallant and young,
I find no more pleasure in wine, woman and song.